


The Rot

by Caprikat



Category: Original - Fandom
Genre: B/B - Freeform, BL, Disease, Experiments, Future, Gay, Intersex, M/M, Mentionsmpreg, Other, Postapocalyptic, Slash, War, Yaoi, Zombies, furturistic, m/m - Freeform, scifi, thirdgender
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 09:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15627297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caprikat/pseuds/Caprikat
Summary: A world were women have become instinct, men crazy, and genetically altered children. The Rot, is a post-apocalyptic two chapter story that is about the creation of a new gender by science, and the consequences of it. Read more to find out :)





	The Rot

**Author's Note:**

> Features intersexual characters, please be advised. Please read tags.

It was an unforeseen circumstance, one that many wished could be avoided. In the year 2090, when the female population declined rapidly from an unknown disease, scientists became desperate to save the future of mankind. The remaining females on the planet were used as experiments, spending their lives living in confined cells, being injected with mysterious serums. It was a cruel life indeed, but they thought it was their only hope left.

"For life," they said. But they could not save them. The females' fates had already been sealed by the Lord himself.

When the last of the females died, scientist began to panic, they had no clue on what to do next. In turn, madness ran amok everywhere. People began lightening things on fire, stealing, and killing. It was as if there was no longer any restraints for morals.

Just as all was about to rupture into hell, a man by the name Johnathan Rutherford had offered a promising solution. He had presented the world's first genetrix.

"Gentlemen," he spoke mellifluously into the microphone, his voice captivating the audience. He grabbed onto a lithe arm, the man forcing the person behind the black curtain to be exhibited for all to see. It was a youth, no older than nineteen years of age, was pregnant. The crowd began talking amongst themselves baffled by the revelation.

"A woman!" Someone yelled within the sea of people, but Jonathan smirked in return, laughing hysterically at the assumption. Everyone remained silent, stunned by the strange man's cackle.

"Not a woman, my comrade, something much better." Turning to his side, Jonathan brought the beautiful youth closer, making sure that he stood there, glued by his side.

"This is a genetrix, my very own creation," he announced proudly as the petit creature shook in trepidation. "Many of you, I'm sure most of you are baffled by what I mean, but give me a moment of your valuable time to explain."

No one held any objection as the man continued. "I had previously been a geneticist in Derinax, working on the same biological projects as your geneticist here. Then one day, after each fail, I finally gave up. It was useless, each test lead to death and destruction. But then it came to me." The man gripped onto the podium excitedly, his eyes watching over hoards of people. "The answers were right in front of us all along."

The crowd began mumbling amongst them once more. And hesitantly, a hand popped up within from within throng of people. "And what were they?"

"What were they, you ask?" the man repeated the question, and then said, "The children of course."

Some people were appalled by the man's behavior. It was disturbing, outright against god, some even thought. "Now, don't give me those looks. I assure you they aren't harmed, their genomes are just manipulated."

He continued onwards explaining that children twelve and under were perfect for the trials. At first, people were unsure of what to make of the proposal. But since they were in such dire need to survive, they gave up their children to the Genetrix Project.

It was government mandated on September 21, 2095 that at least half of the children twelve and under would take part in the project.

But what they did not expect was another disease to arise, one much more deadlier than the first.

Almost thirty years later, the rot had ruined the lives of many. When Jonathan Rutherford promised the people of Uxtree solace for their lost, they did not think it would come at such a high price.

Most of the kids that came out of the experiment as promised, but as for the others, they became infected with the rot, a highly contagious disease that makes a living organism decay on the inside. Usually the children infected with the rot would be incarcerated till they died horribly, but lately, the disease had been mutating at exponential speed. The rotten were somehow escaping the instituions and infecting others.

The government had told its citizens that everything would be under control, but they knew it was a ballant lie. Those who chose to fight the injustice were known as the Renegades.

Cities were turned into a place of war, desiccated into nothing but ashes. Bombings would occur everyday, and just like before, people went mad.

~~~***~~~~

"What did Captain say we needed to collect this time?" Skidder asked, climbing over the rubble of an old, cement road.

"Something about needing medicine, he says we running low," the man, Critter replied, his southern drawl thick.

"Hey, Crit?" The younger man called out, his hands shuffling in his pockets as he continued to follow the older man. "Why do we follow Captain? I mean, we don't even know what he looks like."

Critter turned around to face the younger male, sighing, his eyes dull, and weary. "He's damn good at what he does kid, doesn' matter what he look like."

The teen supposed what the older man said was right. He didn't argue with him any further, but he couldn't help but wonder what their leader looked like. After all, they had been blindly following this man without any objections. Would it cause them any harm to know what their so called leader looked like? Skidder was having some doubts.

Why would a man need to hide his face behind a mask, it just doesn't make any sense, he thought.

"Stop y'ar day dreaming, we're at the shack!" Critter called out, much further ahead than Skidder, already approaching a small ruin of concrete. Quickly, he followed after him, reaching the wore down medicinal shop.

When the mission was done, they returned to the base, advancing towards their captain. And as usual, he wore his black, solemn looking mask that covered the entirety of his face, his hands pressed neatly behind his back .

"Captain," said Critter, "We have all of the meds, just like y'a asked."

"Very well, bring them to the storage room," he said, his voice unnaturally electronic, and much deeper than anticipated for a man of his height.

It wasn't the first time the teen had seen the Captain, but he had never truly heard him speak. Perhaps once or twice, at a conference with the other 5,000 members as he sat in the back, but never so close had he'd been near him until now.

Skidder didn't even realize how much he was staring at the Captain, until Crit gave him a hard pat on the back. "Don't stare so much kiddo, it's rude," the older man whispered, admonishing him.

"Excuse us, Cap."

They walked away, not another word coming out of their mouths, but Skidder could still feel the Captain's eyes on him. It was as if he had thrown daggers at him, the sharpness of the blades slowly cutting through his skin. The teen honestly didn't know why the Captain was glaring holes into him. Perhaps, he inferred that he was nothing but an incompetent boy?

Later that night, Skidder woke up, his heart palpitating, beads of sweat running down his now, pallid, olive skin.

He was having that dream—no, nightmare—again. It would always start off the same. His mother would be cradling him in his arms, whispering stories in his ears. He would giggle, his small hands grasping his mother's shirt, begging him to tell him more, and his mom would, but then something macabre would happen.

Sometimes the nightmare ended with his father, holding a red ax, beheading his mother. Or sometimes it would be him murdering his own mother.

The thought sickened him. And he had no clue to as what the vivid nightmare meant.

Groggily, Skidder got out of bed, and yawned. He was so damn tired, but after that terrible dream, he couldn't go back to sleep. So, he decided to get up, and get himself a glass of water from the canteen.

The Renegade's building was quite a scary place at night. In truth, it had been an old boarding school that they occupied, probably over a hundred years old, but that only made things at night even creepier. Skidder was never one to get spooked easily, but he swore that in the darkness, he could hear voices, millions of them whispering through the desiccated walls of the building.

He was walking unsteadily, his eyes wanting nothing more than to close shut, but he forced them open, reminding himself that if he went to sleep that nightmare would occur. It kept him awake, until the lights of one of the rooms caught his attention. The door of the room was slightly ajar, and Skidder couldn't help his childlike curiosity bubbling within him. As quietly as he could, he peeked into the chamber, surprised at what he saw.

There, Critter was standing across from someone. "Cap, what are we gonna do? People are startin' to ask bout y'a, again."

"I don't know, I honestly don't." The voice was very soft, and effeminent.

Skidder's eyes widened at the realization, taking a glimpse at the Captain.

The Captain was nothing like the teen had expected him to look. He was a young genetrix, about only twenty two years old. He was also the first genetrix the young man had ever seen. His ebony hair was styled short in a long tapered pixie cut with side bangs—It complemented his heart shaped face, a lot, Skidder noticed, and his emerald green eyes were sharp, eyelashes long, and his face had beauty marks under his eye and chin.

Skidder's heart began palpating.

He's gorgeous, he thought.

"Well Cap, y'a gotta' figure somethin' out quick," the man advised, and the Captain gave out a weary sigh.

"Yeah, I know Crit. But it's hard, I have enough shit already." The genetrix ran his hand through his hair, his eyes half closed. "Just—let's talk about this tomorrow, shall we? It's late at night, and I'm so fucking exhausted."

"Ok, Cap. Night," the older man replied, retreating out of the room.

Quickly, the teen tried to run, but Crit stood there, looming over him. "Y'ar really bad at sneakin' around aren't ya, boy?" he whispered, pulling the kid away from the room.

"I-I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to look," Skidder stuttered out.

"Let's talk," Critter said, pushing the young man into one of the vacant room.

This isn't going to end well, is it? Skidder gulped, ready for the worse to come.


End file.
